


Lost and Found

by melagan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, SGA Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2013, Sentinel Senses, Sentinel/Guide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:52:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melagan/pseuds/melagan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she'd agreed to help Rodney, Teyla never dreamed it would come to this. Now she was on the run, prime suspect for a murder she didn't commit, and she still had to track down the dollmaker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hunted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/852992) by [neevebrody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neevebrody). 
  * Inspired by [On the Run](https://archiveofourown.org/works/853091) by [neevebrody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neevebrody). 



> Thank you to Mezzo_cammin, Mischief and Shaddyr for getting this fic into shape, Commas, quotation marks, tenses and all.
> 
> A very special Thank you to neevebrody for producing the wonderful art that inspired this story.
> 
>  
> 
> **Title of Art:** [Hunted](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/neevebrody/11550022/538078/538078_original.jpg)  
>  **Title of Art (Companion):[On the Run]()**

Teyla Emmagan pressed her back tight against the wall. The evening shadows in the back alley would hide her from view while the heat generated from a hundred warm bodies laughing and gyrating on the other side of the thin wall would confuse the thermal scans. She hoped. The patrol car hovered not five feet away. Teyla held very still. 

The hovercraft finally swung away like a slow moving pendulum and she breathed a sigh of relief. When she'd agreed to help Rodney, she'd never dreamed it would come to this. Now she was on the run, prime suspect for a murder she didn't commit, and she still had to track down the dollmaker. 

The only person who could get her out of this mess was the one who had gotten her into it, Dr. Rodney McKay. A brilliant man, genius in fact, though deeply burdened in ways she didn’t fully understand. Even so, despite how badly his circumstances crippled him, they worked well together as a team. Very well.

To say that Rodney was good at acquiring information was like calling the ocean a mud puddle. He used his skills to pry open networked doors others believed impenetrable. He reset passwords, decrypted electronic locks, and created new identities with equal ease. A shadow in the background, his skills earned her a reputation as prime locator - a reputation that normally took years to build. 

Teyla bit her lip and tried to keep her frustration at bay. Damn, she could certainly use some of that skill now. She did a quick rundown of her options. She had very little time left to contact Rodney. Two minutes, three if she pushed her luck. After that, any contact she made would most certainly be traced. 

She tapped her earpiece. "Rodney, find me the dollmaker's location. Now, please." 

"You didn't find it, then," Rodney's depressed reply came through the tiny mike. "I was certain Mr. Lavin and his collection of shady contacts would know where my doll disappeared to. Maybe you should have leaned on him a little harder, Teyla. Seriously, a life-sized humanoid doll shouldn't be this hard to find!"

"Gaining information from Lucius Lavin turned into a dead— proved fruitless, I'm afraid. Rodney, please tell me you've found the dollmaker."

"Of course. There's no need to get techy about it. I've already downloaded the information to your headset. Just key it to holographic per usual. I'd hurry if I were you. I can't guarantee he'll be at that location long. Teyla, is everything –"

She cut him off and cued up the map. Finally, some good luck. The man she sought, Ronon Dex, underground dollmaker — was less than two blocks away.

~*~

Rodney fidgeted at his desk. Teyla had sounded odd over the radio, tense. He didn't like it. He also didn't like that she'd been out of sight from the city's cameras, which meant she was out of his sight. Stubborn as usual, she'd also refused to wear a trace.

Fine, he couldn't actually fault her for that last one. He knew her refusal came from concern. Anyone that got their hands on one of his tracers could theoretically track it back to him. Rodney might tease that she was over-protective, but he was also profoundly grateful for it. 

He picked his pen up, turning it end over end. Putting it down, he adjusted the angle of his keyboard, then turned his attention to his monitors. He tilted three of them to varying degrees while the map of the dollmaker's location expanded on the fourth. Finally, coming to the decision that another cup of coffee couldn't hurt, Rodney pushed himself away from his desk. 

Home sweet home. Drumming his fingers on the side of his mug, Rodney looked around the place. Chosen because of its location, the building sat on a crossroads between Hivetown and the warehouse district. It suited. He lived far enough from city convenience to discourage idle foot traffic but close enough to the city for grocery delivery and decent take-out. 

In its early days, the building served as a firehouse. Abandoned long before Rodney moved in, the building's cement, brick, and steel served his needs well. Its thick walls made decent insulation from outside emotional trauma and inside its wide-open floor plan kept him from feeling hemmed in. 

A dozen steel shelves divided up a third of the space. Full of electronics and the tools of Rodney's trade, they served as efficient if unglamorous office walls. A repurposed door served for a desk with ugly but necessary rubber mats under it all to keep damaging static at bay. But, if his office was stark, the rest of the space made up for it.

Some of his pay – most of his pay – came from trade in commodities, not cash. People on the run had little use for what they couldn't carry. He'd acquired homemade blankets in every soft, silky texture and color under the sun. Down pillows topped his bed in a variety of shapes and sizes. The heavy, carved bedframe also came from grateful clients, as did its oversized mattress. Patterned rugs covered the walls and floor, softening all the rough edges and lending a degree of insulation. He knew his bedroom resembled something out of a sheik's harem, but he didn't care. Frankly, Rodney could admit he was hedonistic enough to enjoy it. At least on a good day.

Pity he had to enjoy it alone. Up until ten years ago, Rodney McKay had been your typical, genius whiz kid on the fast track to - well. Herbane didn’t exactly have a fast track. The planet did, however, have a Stargate and a Stargate program, of sorts. That's why he was here, after all, He'd been asked to come study some odd tech brought back to the planet. 

Ignorant people making bad decisions had nearly blown up the facility. Rodney had barely managed to stop it in time. He cracked a smile. The look on the political liaison's face when Rodney shoved him out of the lab had almost been worth it. 

Rodney had stayed, locking himself in with the device. With a one-in-three chance of defusing it in time, he had to try. He’d watched as strange blue flames crackled over the surface of the device. The foot high tower of wire and oblong crystals looked too fragile to withstand the heat, but the computer readouts told him the power was building, not dying down. 

His team studied the device for days without making any headway. Even it's power source remained a mystery. All they knew was that somehow the crystal and wire construction amplified beta waves and converted them into a directional pulse. For what purpose, he’d had no idea. Screwdriver in hand, he approached it with grim determination. He'd cause enough damage to stop it or die trying. 

Well, he hadn't died. He did stop the device, after a fashion, but not before the beam turned its focus on Rodney. With a beam so bright he had to shield his eyes, it bathed him in an energy pulse of blue light. By design or luck, it burned itself out in the process, turning into a useless slag of melted wire and fractured glass. 

After that, everything changed. He may not have died, but he was a casualty just the same. He missed being that broad- shouldered, sandy-haired guy with blue eyes and sexy widow's peak spending his nights trying to pick up girls in at the bar. Rodney sighed, knowing the truth of it. Likely, he'd still be that Cheetos-eating, barely-soft-around-the-middle-guy trying to pick up girls at the local Mensa club. 

Nothing he could do about it now. His empathic shields were blown to hell and ashes along with the charred crystals. Now, even ordering a pizza was problematic. 

It made little difference that the delivery guy had never seen his face, nor Rodney his. Rodney always knew when Pat- Petey-Pedro – whatever - was in the building because the man's job dissatisfaction rolled off him in angry waves. Rodney learned to ignore it. He rarely broke out in hives anymore, though he knew having a solid wall between them helped. So, he'd leave a generous tip when he ordered and wait until Patey dropped the delivery outside his door and skedaddled out of there.

The system worked. Usually. Rodney sighed. He couldn't do a damn thing about how irrational and unpredictable, people were. Strong emotions found a way of getting through. A few weeks ago, Pizza guy had apparently gotten lucky just before his shift. His emotions were a roller coaster ride of enthusiasm and worry. Rodney wanted to scream, "Spare me, and wear a condom next time!" Instead, curled in helpless agony, knees to his chest, he rocked back and forth in one corner of the room as his cooling meal congealed on the other side of his door. 

Exactly how much time had passed, he could never remember. It hadn’t seemed as interminable as this wait to hear from Teyla, though. Rodney checked the clock for the fifteenth time in twice as many minutes. Still no word. Surely she'd found the dollmaker by now? Although what she hoped to gain for information, Rodney had no idea. 

Sitting back at his desk, he cued up the cameras in Mr. Lavin's nightclub. Lucius might be a shyster with the morals of an alley cat, but his surveillance system was the best his money could buy. It didn't prevent Rodney from tapping into it, oh no, indeed. Mr. Lavin might be a dead end, but Rodney had nothing to do but wait. He might as well use the time to see if he could figure out why Lucius refused to help.

The surveillance camera at the door gave him a view of two patrol cars with flashing lights, Yellow barricade tape marked a do-not-cross line to the building's entrance. This didn't bode well. 

Frowning, Rodney kept watching as a crowd gathered outside the building. Damn, they blocked his view of the entrance. Choosing not to waste any more time, with a few sure strokes of the keyboard he accessed the camera inside Mr. Lavin's office.

He froze, staring at the sight in front of him. Someone was there trying to cover a body with a sheet. As they carefully maneuvered around to avoid stepping in blood, Rodney got a good long look at the victim's face. Lucius Lavin's blank eyes stared back at him, and Rodney shuddered. No wonder Lavin couldn't pass on any information. Unbidden, a horrid thought entered Rodney's mind. Oh dear god, had Teyla killed him?

~*~

Once again, Teyla marveled at Rodney's ability to use the technology around him as his eyes and ears. Ronon Dex was precisely where Rodney said he would be. The dollmaker sat at the bar, drink in front him, idly tapping his fingers on the bar's polished wood surface. He seemed more interested in watching his surroundings than drinking.

His pictures did not do him justice. Tall, with lean, bronze muscles at rest, as he relaxed against the bar, his hair fell in long braids that reached halfway down his back. Ronon's sharp eyes and untamed grace made him seem capable of many things. Being a maker of adult dolls was not one of them. 

"You gonna to keep watching or come over and join me?" Ronon held his glass of beer up to her in a casual salute. Bring the lady one on me, Chuck. Well? Beer's not getting any colder."

Teyla slid onto the stool next to him. "I have an urgent matter to discuss with you, dollmaker."

"You’re the locator, Teyla Emmagan," Ronon said. "Heard about you. Sorry, can't help. I haven't lost anything that needs finding."

With a curt nod, she said, "For ease, you may call me Teyla. As for having nothing lost, I think you'll find you're quite wrong about that."

Ronon frowned back at her, but before more could be said they were interrupted by the sound of sirens.

Teyla gripped Ronon's arm. "I can't stay here, dollmaker. Is there somewhere more private we can talk?"

“The patrol is after _you?_ ” Ronon asked in disbelief.

"I fear it likely, yes."

The bartender, never batting an eye, said, "The stairs in the back will take you down to the basement. You can get out to the back alley from there. I'd hurry before they start doing a door-to-door."

With a nod, Ronon took Teyla's hand and headed for the stairs. Pressed with need, they moved quickly and were soon standing in the alleyway under the streetlight's glare. 

"Where to now?" Teyla asked. 

"Someplace it will look normal for us both to be at, my workshop." Ronon grinned down at her. "If anyone asks, I'll tell them you're my new model."

~*~

Okay – okay – okay. Rodney rubbed his hands over his face. He'd waited hours for Teyla to contact him. She hadn't. He’d finally crashed at his workstation, waking up seven hours later with a fierce need for coffee and an imprint of his keyboard creased along one cheek.

What did he do now? He had a dead man and a missing woman. Friend. Teyla was his friend, and about the only friend he had these days. If she’d killed Lavin, then it just meant helping her was a little more complicated. It didn't mean he wouldn't do it. Rodney drummed his fingers nervously on the desk. He just had to figure out how.

First off, he couldn't leave. When avoidance is your only protection, it doesn't leave a lot of options. Besides, Rodney knew he'd be a basket case before he got far enough to hail a cab. Still, he might not have to do this alone. 

He began searching through every piece of information Teyla had on her contacts. Maybe he could find someone to help. Someone Rodney could trust not to turn Teyla in. Someone who owed her as much he did. 

And Rodney owed her a lot. 

It seemed like his life had ended when that damned alien device went off. Oh, not immediately. He'd had the saving grace of forty-eight hours. Enough time for decontamination and a med check. 

Oh yes, let's not forget the slap on the wrist for his rudeness to an official. Rodney hadn’t bothered to argue when they’d told him to take a couple days off with the admonishment to think about his behavior. He could come back after he formed a suitable apology. Yeah, Rodney snorted, like that was ever going to happen.

With nothing more to do after the device was destroyed, he’d gone home. Back then, he hadn’t known he wouldn't be coming back. Of course, back then he'd had no idea his own personal shit was about to hit the fan. 

It took time, but eventually he scraped the pieces of his life back together. Not the easiest of things to do after the alien shock wave left his empathy wide open to every passing emotion. As unpleasant as that was, the simple awareness of the feelings around him wasn't the worst of it. 

Rodney used the last of his money to buy the old fire station. It served his purpose well as both home and workplace. It helped having no annoying people around and he preferred it that way. The hard part came later, when a client would insist they meet face-to-face. 

***

"Mr. McKay, are you all right?"

"It's Doctor McKay," Rodney spat out." No, I'm not all right." He dug his nails into the arm of his chair and concentrated on breathing. 

"You don't look well. Should I call an ambulance?"

"No!" That was the worst possible solution, because being immersed in the kind of trauma hospitals swam in would likely kill him. To his horror, the more concerned his client Mr. Harriman became, the worse Rodney's body reacted. In front of his eyes, his skin began to break out in tiny lesions that stung like acid burns. Terrified that his client might insist on calling for help, Rodney said, "Um, it's not that bad, really. Just please leave and I'll take care of it."

"If you're sure…?" Mr. Harriman asked, but the man was already clutching his briefcase and backing towards the door. 

As soon as he left the building, Rodney could breathe again, and his skin began to heal. Oh hell, that idiot probably thought Rodney had some exotic and highly contagious disease. It occurred to him then that the odds of that particular client ever sending work his way again were a vigorous hell-no to nonexistent . 

On a purely practical side, things were starting to look grim. Rodney was down to a few cans of soup, a half dozen expired MREs, and a looming electric bill when Teyla Emmagan first made contact. Her voice was clear and determined over the phone.

"The services I require demand a certain discretion, Dr. McKay," 

"I believe you mean secretive, Ms Emmagan," Rodney snapped back.

"At times. Will this be a problem for you?" 

"Hardly. I prefer to keep a low profile. In fact, I think you’ll be surprised at how very okay I am with staying under the radar."

"I suspected as much, Dr. McKay. You are a surprisingly difficult man to find."

"You do your profession credit, Ms. Emmagan," Rodney found himself forced to admit. "Usually I find my clients – they don't find me. Not unless I want them to." He could practically hear her answering smile on the other end of the line. 

***

That was the beginning of their partnership. She called on his computer skills as needed, and over time they discovered they functioned well together. He ignored her suggestions for yoga and meditation while she gave him something to do that was actually useful. The pay didn't hurt, either. 

Bah! That was old history. Maybe he wouldn't be winning any awards, not anymore, and the loneliness sure as hell wasn't something Rodney had signed up for. Nevertheless, this was his life now, and realistically, he knew it could have been worse. Much worse. He could have ended up as someone's lab experiment -- or dead.

Refusing to think about that any further, Rodney turned his full attention to the case files in front of him. If he could find even one person to help…. 

He leaned forward with a soft gasp, his eyes riveted to the picture of the man on his screen. John Sheppard. The file held little else. Just a passport and this picture of a man smiling at Rodney as though he didn't have a care in the world. No, that wasn't right. He had cares, maybe as many as Rodney, but it was clear from this photograph that John Sheppard had found a way to cope. 

Focused on his search, Rodney pulled in data from every network stream and resource he knew of. It was quick, dirty, and several different kinds of illegal. He just needed an address. A phone number would be even better. He could find out who John Sheppard was later; right now he just needed to locate him. His fingers flew over the keyboard while every instinct Rodney possessed screamed at him to hurry.

~*~

Teyla laid her hand on Ronon's arm and said, "Thank you." She looked around the workroom, taking in the wide wooden tables and the neatly arranged tools of the dollmaker's craft. On one of the tables were two dolls in various stages of assembly. "Why do you do it?"

"Make the dolls, you mean?" Ronon asked. He flashed a smile. "I like pretty things."

She frowned, uncomfortable with his cavalier answer. 

Noticing her expression, he added, "Not much call for a freelance weapons experts these days. Need to work and I'm good with my hands, so why not?"

Uncertain as to how to continue on that subject, she asked, "How long do you think it will be before the patrol finds us here?"

Ronon's smile turned smug. "Depends. Could be a while. Chuck doesn't care for the patrols much. He'll direct them as far away from here as possible." Ronon pulled up a chair, straddling it backwards. "Now, tell me what happened that has you so worried about getting caught."

"It's a long story." She drew in a long, slow breath, to regain her composure. "Tell me, have you heard any reports or complaints from any of the other dollmakers about missing dolls?" 

Suddenly, unnervingly attentive, Ronon sat up straight, knuckles gone nearly white from his fierce grip on the chair's back. "What do you know?"

"My friend, Dr. McKay — never received the item he purchased from you."

"Did he get the ring?"

"Yes. He received the activation band by courier. In fact, to my knowledge, he's wearing it now. I believe he wished to become accustomed to the feel of the ring, as well as memorize many of its command codes before using it."

"Let me guess," Ronon said, "one week after he received the ring, the doll crate arrived, only it was empty. That about right? Damn it!" Ronon stood up and paced the room. 

"So this has happened before," Teyla said, more certain than ever that she'd been right to involve the dollmaker.

"Not to me, but I hear things from the other makers. It's not like we can call on the authorities for help," Ronon admitted.

"Yes, I can see where that would be a problem. That may indeed explain why the dolls were stolen after their program chips were implanted. Stealing the chips would be a serious offense, but stealing the dolls —"

"—Yeah, exactly. It doesn't do any good to report stolen unsanctioned merchandise, no matter how valuable it is. The patrol will just laugh in your face."

"But you intend to do something about it?" she asked.

"I was thinking about finding the thief and punching his lights out. For a start. He's making all of us dollmakers look bad." He lifted an eyebrow in challenge. "You got a problem with that?"

"Before you act, I suggest that first we pool our information. We can decide what to do about our thief later, after we find him." 

"Fine. You start," Ronon said, sounding disgruntled. "Tell me why you're on the run."

Teyla sighed quite aware she'd to have to tell Ronon eventually. It might as well be now. "Lucius Lavin is dead. Murdered." Forestalling the obvious question, she quickly added, "I did not do it. Yes, I did intend to confront Lucius, but when he did not show up, I began to search his office. Before I could do anything else, Lucius staggered in and grabbed my arm. He tried to speak and could not. He was — someone had — there was so much blood…" She drew in a steadying breath. "Someone stabbed him in the back. He died in my arms and there was nothing I could do."

"You ran." Ronon nodded in approval. "Smart. The patrol's not exactly known for asking questions first."

"They are not, and I could not afford to be caught. That is not all." Hesitating, she pulled an egg-sized case from her pocket. "I removed this from his…from the crime scene."

"May I see it?" Ronon held out his hand for the case, and reluctantly she passed it over. 

"It holds some kind of computer chips," Teyla said. "This case contains numerous strands. There must be dozens of chips in there."

"More like hundreds," Ronon said," if these are what I think they are. Doll program chips run fifty chips to a strand. It takes forty strands for the average doll. It depends on how complex the doll's interactions need to be. Special orders like McKay's can need another twenty or thirty. Looks like there's enough in here for a half-dozen dolls."

"So tiny. I had no idea. Do you design the strands as well?" 

He laughed. "No. Dr. Daniel Jackson does that. When the strands are ready, he sends them to me and I put them in the finished doll." He touched the back of one doll's headless spine, two inches below its neck. "The strands get implanted here, covered with a layer of nuskin, and my mark goes over that. After that, the doll gets crated and shipped."

"You don't activate the dolls first?" she asked. 

"No. It's designed to recognize its owner's command code and no one else's." Ronon tapped his ring finger. "That's how the activation band works. Daniel says it's because the program chips were originally intended to be some sort of spy tech for the military.

"His friend, Jack, could explain that part better. According to Daniel, he used to work for military intelligence. Heard he's a colonel now and assigned to the Stargate program. Anyway," Ronon looked sheepish, "I wouldn't know what to do if the software didn't work. That takes a different kind of craftsman." 

"Rodney has the ring in his possession. Surely we can find out if any of these chips are its match?" She had not forgotten her promise to Rodney, despite her current crisis. If she could not locate the doll, perhaps possessing its key components would allow Ronon rebuild it. 

"Only one person can answer that.” Folding his arms across his chest, Ronon added, "Daniel Jackson's lab sits in the far eastern quadrant of the galaxy on the planet Hitsuzen. As far as I know, it's the only planet where that kind of technology exists.” 

"Ah, I think I understand. These strands, they cannot be replicated and that makes them valuable. Valuable enough for someone to kill for?"

"Maybe. No one has ever figured out how Daniel does what he does." He paused. "You're going to an awful lot of trouble for this man, Dr. McKay. Are the two of you —?"

"—We are not lovers, if that is what you wish to ask." She interrupted. "I had a love, once, but it was not our time. His name is Kanaan. He was lost, and Rodney tried everything in his power to help me locate him."

"Did you find him?"

"Yes. In Hivetown." She shook her head. "To this day, I do not know what took him to such a place. In the end, I could not persuade him to leave. He had grown — fearful, and not the man I knew at all." With a wan smile, she added, "I have hope. I have seen Rodney conquer his own fears and pain many times over. Meanwhile, I have learned the importance of having a good friend. Besides, I owe Rodney. I have done him harm, and I cannot forgive myself until I find a way to make it right."

"What aren't you telling me?" Ronon asked, voice grown soft with compassion.

She pressed her lips tightly together and wondered how Ronon would react if she revealed Rodney's secret. She never would, of course, no matter how understanding Ronon seemed. Her first disastrous meeting with Rodney still weighed heavily on her heart but it was her burden to bear. 

Oftentimes prickly, and frequently annoying, Rodney was rarely short of complaints. Yet, his actions put lie to his words as he used his skills to help the very people that could hurt him. Teyla needed no other proof of his character. Surviving empathy at his level shouldn't be possible, and she marveled anew at both his bravery and his persistence. 

But all of that came later, once she'd discovered what her friend was truly up against. She'd been a fool, insisting they meet despite Rodney's concerns. A meeting with ‘Limited Success’, as Rodney would call it. Teyla choked back a bitter laugh at the memory.

***

Warned, she took care to spend several minutes in a meditative state suppressing her emotional energy, and it had worked. For ten minutes, they spoke to each other from across the room. Then, certain she'd mastered her emotions, she moved forward until she was a bare arm's length away. 

Confidence washed through her and her control slipped, allowing pride to seep through. She watched in horror as Rodney's skin broke out in a fiery rash. It raced up his arms to his neck and he jerked back to crouch in the corner, hand held up to ward her off. 

"Rodney!" Teyla tried to rein in her dismay and failed. It was too late, all too late. She watched in horror as Rodney's skin blistered.

"Get back!" Rodney's scream changed to whimpers. "It burns, oh god, it burns."

Knowing her presence could only make matters worse, Teyla turned and fled. Expecting that she'd destroyed their partnership for good, she returned home to find a message on her answering machine from Rodney. 

_"Teyla? I…I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know that I freak people out.”_ There was a long pause. _“This wasn't even that bad. No, really. It's already getting better and hey, I didn't even lose any skin this time. We can try again, if you want. It was nice for a little while."_

She couldn't bring herself to answer. What could she say? That maybe they would when she'd learned to better discipline herself? But right now, listening to the watery quaver in Rodney's voice, knowing what pain her arrogance had caused him, she just wanted to throw up.

***

Pulling her attention back to the present, she raised her eyes to see Ronon staring at her, his face full of questions.

~*~

Flicking the beer cap away, John Sheppard watched as the cap turned end over end in the air, the afternoon sunlight glinting off its edges. Each ridged peak looked mountainous, and the wind sang across the cheap metal with a high, sweet-sounding twang. Time passed. Blinking, John became aware of stars overhead and that the grass he sat on was now crunchy with frost. Fuck. Screwed it up again. At least it wasn't an all-nighter this time.

Shivering, he rubbed at his arms to warm up and glanced around. Last thing he wanted was for someone to see he'd made a fool of himself, but the disused landing field was empty.

Stomach rumbling, he stepped up on his salvaged hover board and headed back to the city limits. Common sense told him he needed to stop pushing his boundaries. One of these days, it would likely kill him. God damn it, what was the point of this stuff if he couldn't use it do some good? 

No, he'd keep trying and count himself lucky this time that at least he hadn't been out so long he pissed himself. That was never pleasant to wake up to. John grit his teeth. He'd learn to control these bastard senses if it killed him. And, then, he vowed, he'd never botch another god-damn rescue mission again.

The travel back to his cheap, eight-by-ten efficiency went without incident. Putting tea on to brew, he wondered what pulled him back from the zone-out. Hell, something had kept him from sitting out in that field staring out into space until dawn. Likely, it was the unexpected drop in temperature. He had a vague memory of hearing a voice from a distance he couldn’t shake, but that made no sense at all. He'd picked that spot exactly because it was so isolated and — the phone vibrating in his pocket startled John so badly he spilled his tea. Splashes of warm liquid soaked into his jeans. At least he hadn't spilled all of it. 

Aggravated, he glared at his phone. There were forty-seven missed calls and his voicemail was full. Someone sure in hell wanted to talk to him. With a disbelieving shake of his head, he wondered if that's what had brought him back. Sheer buildup of annoyance at the persistent bastard calling him forty-seven times in four hours. Too curious to let it pass, John answered the phone. "Hello? Who is this?"

"You have no idea how relieved I am you finally answered your phone," came a male voice over the line. "This is John Sheppard, isn't it?"

"Could be," John, answered cautiously. "Depends on what you want."

"I don't have time for you to be cute. This is Dr. Rodney McKay."

"Yeah? I'm thrilled for you. Now, you get two minutes to explain what the hell you're calling me for and then I'm hanging up."

"No, no, no, you can't hang up! Telya needs us. I found your picture in her files, Mr. Sheppard – you must know her."

"Who? What files? Someone has a file on me? Can't say I'm happy to hear that." John said, growing more concerned by the minute. "Her who, exactly, has this file, and how do you know about it?"

"I told you already. Teyla Emmagan. Stop trying to make me think you don't know her. For one thing, she's the locator for the Athosian District. Well, I suppose it's not like she advertises when you come to think of it. Private locators don't really like to make a big splash. It's not good for business. Still…" Rodney made a desperate sound. "Please. It's impossible for me find her on my own and I know she's in trouble. Damn it, Sheppard, I need your help."

"If I say no, you're just going to keep calling me, aren't you?" John said, thinking about those forty-odd missed calls. 

"Yes! Yes I am. You have no idea how important this is. Teyla doesn't get lost. Ever. Besides, she wouldn't leave me alone like this."

"Hate to break it too you, but girlfriends do leave, and trust me, they don't always want to be found." Exasperated, he asked, "What do you want from me?" 

"I need you to go the places I can't. And she's not my girlfriend! She's my co-worker."

"Must be some kind of co-worker to inspire this type of loyalty," John snarked. "You know what? This whole thing is just weird enough that I'm curious. I'm going to help you, but I have one condition."

"I can pay," Rodney said. 

"Not money. I help you and afterwards you promise to destroy any trace of that file on me. Do we have a deal?"

"Oh thank god. Yes, of course."

He agreed so quickly that John began to believe there really might be a problem involving Teyla. Oh, he remembered her all right but McKay didn't need to know that. Besides it was only one brief meeting-- cool, professional, and full of nosy questions. She wasn't the kind of woman a man found it easy to forget. "Where do you want to meet?" 

Rodney's hesitation was clear over the line. John waited patiently for an answer wondering if the man had changed his mind after all. 

"You'll have to come…here. To my place." He rattled off an address. "How soon can you make it?"

"You live in the warehouse district? There's nothing there but abandoned buildings and rats the size of my arm." 

"Ha-ha. Very amusing. I live next to the warehouse district, not in it. A fine line of distinction, but an important one. I assure you there are no rats here. Don't let appearances and rumors deceive you. It's actually quite decent here. Quiet."

"Sure it is. Be there in twenty." John hung up the phone and hoped like hell he wasn't making a mistake. Now, if only his senses would behave for a change. Funny thing about his hearing though, it hadn't spiked once during their conversation. He heard everything clearly; even McKay's rushed waterfall of vocabulary had sounded, well, soothing. Strange. Still, he couldn't depend on it staying that way. He sure as hell didn't need to zone in front of McKay and come off looking like some kind of basket case. 

What he did need was to find out what kind of information that file on him held. Drawing in a slow, easy breath, he concentrated on reining in each of his affected senses. Touch, taste, hearing, sight and smell. John settled on a range he judged slightly below average before locking them down. That done, he began weaving thick sensory shields for protection. 

The world began to feel like a muffled blanket around him and left him feeling dull. It sucked. It also played havoc with his reaction time and he wished fervently for a better way. Until John met one of those mythological guidesmen – yeah, right -- he'd just have to buck up and deal. At least he'd found a way to keep any sudden sharp noise or over-bright light from crippling him. Briefly, John wondered how his particular kind of protection would work against giant, arm-long rats, and grimaced.

~*~

Teyla's silence seemed to roll off Ronon's shoulders with no effect. As she watched, he busied himself with heating up a simple meal and placing dishes on the end of one large table. Her stomach growled at the delicious aroma of warm bread and spiced honey. She marveled that she had any appetite left after this day's horrific events.

"Go on," Ronon said gruffly. "Eat."

She sat down and reached for a roll. "Thank you."

"Look, I get that there's things you don't want to talk about," Ronon said, ladling soup into two bowls. "But I can't help if I don't know what's going on."

Slices of carrot and pieces of fat, creamy potatoes redolent of garlic and a spice Teyla couldn't identify made her mouth water. She'd lost track of time since her last meal, but it must have been hours ago. Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin and said, "Before we share a meal, you should know I did not approve of Rodney's desire to purchase a doll from you." 

"Because they're not on the approved list? Or is it a moral issue?" Ronon grinned. "Some of the features he ordered were — interesting."

"Neither. I…" she paused. “I'd hoped to find a human alternative to his need for companionship." She looked at the dollmaker, wondering how much she could safely say. His expression merely held curiosity and sympathy. Deciding to trust him, she asked, "Have you ever wondered if some of the old stories have any truth buried inside?"

"Depends. Which ones?"

"There is a history of tales," she began, "unbelievable to us now, but that is the nature of myths. One such story tells of a man whose normal range of sensory perception outstripped his brethren. It's said, the warrior Gyi Sun Ellis could count the feathers of a bird in flight. He could hear the heartbeat of fish in the stream and smell the sour tang of lies on the deceitful. His ever-companion and teacher, Sen Burg, walked at his side and protected him always from being lost in dreamtime. Do you know this story?"

"I've heard of it," Ronon answered carefully. "And, I know Daniel believes it's true. He's been researching it for years." 

"Research?"

"He wants to write a book, I think." Ronon stopped and scratched his chin, lost for the moment in thought. "He believes your story people really lived. That they built sanctuary somewhere on Hitsuzen and he's trying to prove it. He has some wacked-out theory that there could be people living today with that same kind of ability."

"This is true?" Teyla asked, hope rising. "I had no idea others believed. Your Daniel Jackson must be a remarkable man."

Ronon shrugged. "He's got some strange ideas, and he talks a lot. Why are you so interested in that old story?"

"I find it intriguing. Perhaps I could speak with Dr. Jackson about it one day." What she didn't say was that it was a different part of the story that held her interest. The lesser known recounting of how a warrior like Gyi Sun Ellis could insulate himself behind mental shields so strong that he could not fall under the influence of evil men. According to the stories, he could extend this shield to protect another, if that other person and he were bonded. 

If such men or women existed — if they were willing — if she could get Rodney to agree to try and it worked, then perhaps she could lay her guilt down for good.

There was a man she'd met briefly once, on a locator hunt. He ran a solo-pilot operation on the city's fringe. It was undeniably more of a hole-in-the-wall workshop than a traditional transport hanger, but it had seemed serviceable enough. It housed a single, battered gate shuttle of a design she'd not seen before. 

John Sheppard. She remembered how his smile, glib and charming, had never reached his eyes. Getting him to talk about anything relevant had tested her patience, and worse, the meager information she'd gained from him turned out to be useless. 

But, she also remembered how his aura revealed shields so thick and blocked his emotions so well she wondered how he could breathe. When this mess was over, she vowed to find him again and —

Ronon laid his hand on hers, interrupting her thoughts. "I don't know how deep you and McKay are caught up in this mess, but from where I'm sitting it looks bad. There's an option you haven't considered that would be safer for you. Give the strands to me to deliver to Daniel. Maybe he can figure out where they belong. "

"And then what?" She curled her hand around the egg-shaped case of tiny computer chips. "Right now, they are the only clue I have to finding Lavin's real murderer."

"So, that's a no?"

"It is, dollmaker, most definitely a no."

~*~

The camera's eye swiveled, following John's approach. The device hunched on the brick wall like a mechanical spider, its movements surprisingly fluid as it made several adjustments to keep him in view. He gave it a nod, knowing full well McKay was watching. John approved. Only a stupid man or a fool would fail to be cautious in this part of town at night, and Rodney McKay struck him as neither.

The door opened at his approach and John stepped into a wide, unfurnished room. Hands on his hips, John turned in a circle taking it all in and biting back the tiniest bit of envy. He could have fit his own hanger in here four times over. 

"There's an elevator to your left. I'm on the top floor," McKay said over the intercom. "And if you would mind not thinking about anything in particular I'd appreciate it."

"Sure," John drawled. "Not thinking. Gee, McKay, you should have told me that you only wanted me for my good looks. I'd have been here sooner." He grinned at the sputtering on the other side of the line. 

Minutes later John got his first look at Dr. Rodney McKay. Sandy hair, broad shoulders, and wary blue eyes. He took a step closer before he could stop himself, feeling an odd compulsion to touch the man in front of him. 

"Please stand back," Rodney said, putting up a hand to ward John off. "I'm not sure what's going on, but we can figure it out later. Right now, I'm just relieved not to be in screaming agony."

John raised an eyebrow at that. "Rough dating life? I think you can get therapy for that. Or not. I hear they have clubs for all kinds of things. Who am I to judge?"

Rodney glared and didn't seem inclined to elaborate. 

"Okay, then." John clapped his hands together in mock enthusiasm. "Continuing on. Any ideas where we should look for your missing lady?"

"Hmm," Rodney said. His gaze drifted over John from head to toe. "You look remarkably like your photo except your tie looks even more out of date. Is that the same shirt?"

"Aw, Rodney, you say the sweetest things. And to think, we just met."

Rodney looked away and cleared his throat before continuing. "Looking at the information in your file, an abysmally small amount to go on, by the way, I'm guessing you came through the Stargate as a kid. You and your whole family, probably."

John nodded. 

"I imagine your parents settled here to escape the Kinsey Oppression like a hundred other Earther families did thirty years ago. You must have been six or seven then?"

"Something like that." John repressed the urge to step closer and smooth the downward slant of Rodney's mouth into a happier line. Jesus, why was he reacting to Rodney like this?

He shoved that question to the back burner and continued, "The oppression runs were a joke. Between you and me, I think it was a tool used to get settlers moving to other worlds. It's not as if the government couldn't find us if they really wanted too. No one, not even babies, were allowed through the gate without a passport and travel plan. Hell, I heard they even made this kid, Woolsey, get one for his dog." John shrugged. "It's not much better now."

"Yes, well, none of us ended up with the kind of freedom we were promised." Rodney said. "At least they didn't barcode the kids back then, just the adults." 

John shoved his hands into his pockets. Rodney's little sigh of discontent only made John want to comfort him more. Soothe his distress somehow. Stroke his brow, massage his shoulders, put his hands on – all over him, if he were honest. Oh, fuck. John bit back a groan. 

Needing something else to focus on, he started exploring his surroundings. If it bothered Rodney to have John poking around the place, too bad. If nothing else, maybe there'd be something here to help him figure out what was really going on. 

"Teyla’s last contact was with the local dollmaker," Rodney’s hands danced over his keyboard as he spoke.

"Ronon Dex?" John looked up from the catalog he was flipping through. "I've had a beer or two with him. He's solid. She won't come to any harm if she sticks with him."

"Good to know." Rodney pointed to his computer screen. "I have their last known location up. Here's what I think —"

"Un-huh." John let Rodney's words drift over him. He was paying attention. Enough, at least. It wasn't nearly as interesting as the page he was reading or the items on it Rodney had circled in red. "Looks like you ordered one of Ronon's dolls. Is that was this is about?"

"No! Maybe." Rodney fumed.

He could see how badly Rodney wanted to come close enough to snatch the unauthorized catalog from his hands. The question was, why didn't he? For someone that so desperately wanted to have this meeting with John, he wore distance around him like a nuclear perimeter. 

"I see you picked a female model," John goaded. "What was it you liked? The blond hair…or let me guess, the big, curvy… smile. Although, I'm not sure why you didn't go with the male model. You could have saved some money on the --" he made air quotes," attachments."

Rodney, face flushed a startling shade of pink, jumped up, nearly spitting with fury. "I'll have you know, the female versions have more advanced programming! That's why! Maybe I wanted to have a conversation with something that at least acts like a companion. Not that it's any of your business." 

He reached out to snatch the catalog from John and their hands brushed. Rodney froze. 

John drew in a sharp breath, his senses swimming in the powerful undertow of Rodney's heartbeat. He couldn't move if his life depended on it. His senses swirled, the care he'd taken to rein them tossed away as if it were nothing. Yet, nothing spiked or hurt, and he had no fear of a zone out. For the first time, he felt in control, his senses sharp, clear and ready to do what John asked of them. And right now, what he wanted them to do was to explore every inch of this remarkable man standing in front of him. Thoroughly. Intimately. 

"How is this possible?" Rodney whispered, caught in the spell. His blue eyes stared at John, full of wonder. “I haven't touched anyone in so long…"

Curling his hand around Rodney's wrist, John dragged him close. Primal instinct took over from somewhere deep within, and he had no intention of fighting it. "Shh, I've got you." 

And he did. He had the sound of Rodney's heartbeat in his ears, and Rodney's scent teasing at John's hindbrain, insisting he lean in for more. He had the feel of Rodney's warm skin under his hand. Oh, not enough, maybe never enough, but that could wait a few more minutes. What he needed now was taste. John pulled Rodney's wrist to his mouth and licked, a long, wet stripe that pulled a soft gasp of surprise from Rodney. 

"Oh, god. Should that feel so good? Because honestly, that should be disgusting, not to mention _painful_. Why…" He stumbled over the next words, looking confused. "Why doesn't it hurt?"

John growled, "We can talk about it later," and shut Rodney up with a fierce kiss. Part of him reluctantly wondered if he'd pushed too far, too fast, when he felt warm, eager hands pull at his shoulders, angling him for a deeper kiss. 

"Bedroom," Rodney gasped against John's cheek." Over there. Forty-five degree angle, twenty paces." 

"Got it. Are you always this detail orientated?" John asked, pulling Rodney toward the bedroom. 

Sliding his hands under John's shirt, he answered, "Often. In this case, I can practically guarantee you're going to be very glad of that in the very near future."

The bed felt ages away, but finally they were there and John began stripping Rodney out of his clothes. Pushing Rodney's shirt off his shoulders, he couldn’t resist a taste of all that bare skin. He kissed his way down Rodney's throat. So much sensory input nearly had him swaying on his feet. 

Grabbing his elbow, Rodney guided John on to the bed. "I don't know why or how long this reprieve will last, but I'm not wasting time." 

"Mmm," John said, just before he got his mouth around one of Rodney's beautiful nipples and began sucking. 

"Oh. Oh, that's…"

John could feel Rodney entire body quivering against him. Good. John turned his head so that he could latch onto Rodney's other nipple. There was the smallest of differences in taste, and yes, the left one was definitely the more sensitive of the two. Mmm, this would need a thorough study. He only stopped when he did because Rodney's hard cock was insistently bumping against him. He raised his head. Ah, John licked his lips, something new to taste. 

Collapsed against the bedding, Rodney managed coherency just long enough to ask, "Are you going to taste me all over?"

"Every inch of you. Got a problem with that?" John growled. 

"None at all. Just, well, I was hoping you'd fuck me." Rodney's eyes widened. "I didn't mean to ask that, I mean we've barely met and that's … that's probably too much, way too much to ask, but if it's not, I have lube…"

John shut him up with a wet and dirty kiss. "Don't apologize. You can ask me anything. Always. And yes, I'm going to fuck you. But first, I'm going to explore all of you. Before I’m done, I’m going to know how you smell and taste everywhere." 

He laid his hand over Rodney's heart, letting his fingertips record that unique and precious heartbeat. "I hear this, I hear you. I'll always hear you." John lowered his voice until it became a sultry promise. "Tonight my cock is going to be buried so deep in your ass you won't be able to tell where I stop and you begin. That work for you?"

"It works. I…" Rodney's fingers didn't tremble as he cupped John's face. He held his hand still as John turned to press kisses into his palm. But, his voice shook when he said, "I think you are the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me."

~*~

Stretching the long length of his body in the silk sheets felt wonderful. Having Rodney snug against his side felt even better. Right up until he poked John in the side with a pointy finger.

"Up. Coffee. Teyla." 

"Good morning to you, too," John answered back with a lazy grin. He felt good. His senses felt settled, humming, sharp, and he was in control. John wanted to stay in bed and repeat everything they'd done the night before, but duty called. He rolled out of bed, slipped his boxers on after snagging them up from the floor, and made his way to the kitchen. Rodney was already there and pouring coffee. Sadly, he'd also found boxers to put on. "Was there a time warp or something?" John asked, scratching his belly. "How did you get the coffee made so fast?"

"You fell back asleep, sleeping beauty." Rodney pushed the coffee mug towards him. "I was just getting ready to call you. Again.” He sighed. "Still no word from Teyla. I shouldn't have taken a break. We shouldn't have…I should have stayed up and kept watch. Maybe something—"

"Stop." John grasped Rodney's wrist and refused to let him pull away. "I needed — we needed each other. Nothing was going to change that." 

"Maybe. Okay, yes. I'll give you that. But last night was…a fluke." Rodney stared down at John's hand still gripping his wrist. His mouth formed a grim, unhappy line. "There are things about me, John. Things that might, that would, drive you away. So forgive me if I keep expecting a disaster to happen any minute."

John let go and sat back in his chair, "You're wrong. Haven't you realized it yet?" He resisted the desire to pull Rodney into his lap and smiled over his coffee cup at him instead. "You, and I, Rodney, we're Yuanfen."

~*~

Ronon stood in the doorway with his arms crossed and an unhappy scowl on his face.

"Your pilot friend, Mr. Mitchell, will not help us?" Teyla asked. 

"I can't reach him. It's like he fell off the face of the planet. I think he's laying low because of the increase in patrols. Can't say as I blame him." 

"I, too, wish I could ask my friend for help," Teyla said "But I will not risk drawing attention to Rodney. Here. I have done the best I could with what he's taught me." She slid a half-dozen papers across the desk for Ronon to see. "New identity papers for the two of us, and a government-approved travel itinerary."

"These look like the real thing," Ronon carefully picked up a page for a closer look. 

"I learned from the best," she said, smiling. "Will the documentation barcode suffice? Or, forgive my asking, are your heels registered? Because that will require additional papers."

"They're clean. I was too old for the tattoos by the time the politicals decided to barcode infants. Nasty business. What about you?"

"My heels are clean as well." She frowned, caught in an unpleasant memory. "Although, I have met those so desperate to escape the system they burned them off." 

"Aha, I get it now. You and McKay, that's what you're really doing, isn't it? You're not just finding people, you're relocating them." 

Teyla lifted her chin. "And now I'm relocating us. So be grateful for my skills, dollmaker, because it's not going to take long for the patrol to connect Lavin's chip theft to your work."

"Hey," he protested. "Take it easy. I don't have a problem with helping people. It's a crappy system. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if the military controlled the Stargate instead of the politicals."

"Do you think it would have been better or worse?" she asked, unwilling to admit the question bothered her. She could see so many places where discipline with honor would be a change for good, but who could say for certain it would work out that way?

"Depends who's in charge," Ronon said. "I don't believe all the military is as bad as the politicals make it out to be. Daniel seems to trust Colonel Jack O'Neill. Well enough at least to do some work for the Air Force once in a while."

She nodded. Almost from day one, the Stargate program became a place where bribery, blackmail and pay-offs ruled. It had gone downhill from there. Even a fool could see it left them all in great danger if a real threat should come through the Stargate. 

Meanwhile, as far as the Stargate was concerned, its military contingent remained meagerly funded and largely unsupported by Earth's politicians. Reduced to doing the best they could with little support and no recognition she found it no surprise they should turn to an outside source for help. Although, exactly what kind of help someone like Dr. Jackson could give remained a mystery.

Ronon pushed the pages back across the desk. "How long before you're done with those? We're packed and I've got one more pilot I can ask. He likes to stay off the radar, but I know he can use the money. The only reason I didn't ask him first is because the last time I saw him his ship needed repairs. It's got some weird parts that are hard to replace."

A pending sense of déjà vu washed over Teyla. "Ronon," she asked carefully, "what is this pilot's name?"

"Him? It's Sheppard. John Sheppard."

~*~

"Where did you get this thing?" Rodney asked. He was staring at a picture of John's – "Ah, what did you call it?"

"A puddlejumper." John stood looking over Rodney's shoulder and beaming like a proud father. "There's nothing else like her out there."

"I can see why. This is your miracle solution? Your puddlejumper looks like it lost a round in the salvage wars."

"Hey, don't insult my baby!" John said, snatching the picture away. "You haven't seen her tech side. Her specs alone are going to make you weep."

"This tech, how exactly is it going to find Teyla?" 

"She touched it. Okay, I can see you don't believe me. Teyla came by the hangar bay to ask me some questions." John waved his hand in dismissal. "Long time ago and not relevant. The point is, we have a record of her DNA."

"How? How can this – this noodle-shaped bucket of bolts…" Rodney stopped at the expression on John's face and decided to change tactics. "What you're describing is some seriously advanced technology. I think you'd better show me."

"Just waiting for you to ask, Rodney. C'mon. It's not far from here. I've been working on restoring it. It's coming along but if you could help, we can get her to fly that much sooner. Rodney?"

"I can't, John." Rodney glared. "I can't leave. You know I can't. Can you bring it here?"

"Look, I know you say you can't. But, well…" John gave him a sheepish grin as he rubbed the back of his neck, “she's not exactly flightworthy right now. Besides, it'll do you good to get out of this place." 

Rodney didn't bother to dignify that with an answer.

"I know, buddy." John squeezed Rodney's shoulder. "You're going to have to trust me. I won't let anything happen to you. Help me with this and once we get this baby fixed, you won't have to put up with a single warm body except mine. Promise."

~*~

Rodney tried not to whine in John's ear, or hyperventilate, or curl into a fetal ball at the sight of someone. They probably looked ridiculous, the two of them crowded together on John's hover board, but it was too far to walk and Rodney flat-out refused to take public transportation. Clinging to John and distracted by the possibility of everything that could go wrong, Rodney never noticed the empathic shield around him.

"Here we are," John said, looking like a ten-year-old kid with his first trophy. "Isn't she a beaut?"

"Where did you say you got this?" Rodney wasn't really listening to John's answer; he was approaching the craft in front of him with awe as John opened the hatch and extended the drive pods with a flourish. 

"My god," Rodney's mouth dropped open and he stared at John, “did you just say you won this in a bet?"

"Velonan roulette. I always did like the way those little balls raced around the wheel. Did you know they use seven different colored balls and," John brought his hand up to chest height, “they tier the bowls to play it in 3-D." He smirked. "I bet on black." 

"Velonan roulette." Rodney threw up his hands. "Unbelievable. Do you even know what you have here? I'm telling you, I see all kinds of advanced technology, and I've never seen anything like this. I think, I can't be sure, mind you, not without getting into her systems, but I think your puddlejumper may have been built by one of the ancient races." 

"But you can still fix her, right?" John asked. 

"I fully intend to try. Now, shut up and pass me a screwdriver." 

It surprised Rodney how well they worked in close quarters together. More than once, they were crouched over the same square of panel while he poked into the guts of the machinery and John held cables and conduits out of his way. 

It didn't seem to matter if their shoulders brushed or that John's muscled thigh rubbed against his every now and again. Nothing hurt, not even a headache. Some emotion always bled through the building's walls, like annoying street-noise, despite his attempts at soundproofing. He'd learned to accept the low-grade sinus pain that came with it.

But this — being with John and working together — the way John anticipated his needs almost before Rodney knew what he needed, felt easy. Good. Without prompting, John had the right tool or just an extra pair of hands just when he needed it. Smiling to himself, he realized this was more fun than he'd had years. 

He slotted another crystal into place, ignoring the shallow cut on his hand from the broken shards of old crystal. Satisfied with a job well done, Rodney was about to tell John to try the engines. Before he could say a word, John took his hand and cradled it between his own. 

"Now, what are you doing?" Rodney asked, stunned at John's behavior. 

"I just want to make sure there aren't any tiny splinters of crystal embedded in your skin. That last piece you took out looked pretty busted up. Now, hold still." Carefully he cleaned the blood away and smoothed a Band-Aid over Rodney's cut.

A long minute passed in which all John seemed to do was stare, flip Rodney's hand over and stare some more. 

"You're kind of weird, you know that, right?" Rodney asked. "I mean, it's a good weird. I…oh never mind. Do I pass your inspection or not?"

Still holding his hand, John brushed the pad of his thumb across Rodney's broad palm and shivered. Soft mouth and hooded eyes, his face reflected a kind of orgasmic bliss.

"John?"

"Oh, that's really…" John looked up at Rodney. "You're um, fine. Nothing wrong. I just wasn't expecting your hand to be so…"

"What? You weren't expecting what?"

"Why are you wearing this?" John scowled as his thumb traced across the band on Rodney's ring finger. 

"The ring? It's the doll activation band. I...I didn't want to lose it."

"I don't like it —"

"Is this some kind of Yuanfen thing?" Rodney pulled his hand away. "I don't think this is any of your—"

"Sheppard!" Ronon bounded into the hanger and gave John a friendly thwack on the back. "Good to see you, buddy. I had a feeling we'd find you here." He grinned. "You never could stop with the tinkering when you were stuck on planet." He looked around at the parts still scattered on the floor. "Hey, how close are you to being done? We need to get to the planet, Hitsuzen." He nodded at Teyla, who was carefully making her way across the floor. "ASAP. The lady's got some urgent business."

"Teyla!" Rodney stood, clasping his hands in front of him, frozen in place. So many people, so many emotions with the potential to hurt him. He wanted to run to her, make sure she was all right, but he didn't dare move.

"Rodney – what are you doing here?" Teyla approached cautiously, relieved to see her friend.

"Back away," John threatened, moving to stand between her and Rodney. "No one gets near him."

"No, it's okay," Rodney said, tugging at John's shoulder. "She's my friend. She's not trying to hurt me."

"I promise you, John," she took a step back, "I meant no harm." With the barest of nods, she added. "You are right to protect him. That is what you are doing, is it not? Keeping Rodney shielded in some way?"

"Trying." John wasn't taking any chances. He put his arm over Rodney's shoulder and pulled him to his side. "You stick to me like glue, McKay. Got it?" He looked at Ronon, his glare to warning him to stay at arm's length as well. "Now, if you don't mind, will somebody tell me what the fuck is going on?"

~*~

Mass confusion ensued as everyone tried to talk at once. John winced when Teyla finally made her voice heard above the rest. "I did not murder Lucius Lavin!"

Rodney sagged against him, an almost imperceptible movement. Still it was enough that John knew Rodney appreciated his shielding.

"I am so sorry, Rodney. I did not mean to spread emotion…" Teyla narrowed her eyes and looked straight at John. "How much can you protect him from?"

John shrugged. "We can talk about it later. It's best we get aboard before the patrol comes by to see what all the fuss is about. Rodney and I'll clean up the last of this mess and then we'll take off. I'm beginning to think the sooner we're off-planet the better."

"It's ready to fly?" Ronon looked down at the scattered pieces still littering the hanger. "You're sure about that?"

"Yep. That's the easy part." John began cleaning the extra pieces away as he spoke, making sure he stayed between Rodney and everyone else while he worked.

"If you say so." Ronon's eyebrow twitched. "What's the hard part?"

"Getting through the gate and flying under the radar once we hit Hitsuzen airspace." John put his hands on his hips and glared. "You realize the only reason I'm doing this is because Rodney insists that we help Teyla. Now get your gear stowed — we're taking off in five minutes."

They took off in two.

~*~

"Is the patrol still behind us?" Before Rodney or anyone could answer John, a display lit up the cockpit window. The patrol vehicles were clearly marked in red and they were rapidly falling behind.

"How fast does this craft go?" Teyla asked. Her words were measured and calm, but her back was rigid with tension. 

Rodney, sitting in the front with John, stared at the navigation screen. Streams of information rolled up in front of them, almost too quickly to follow. "Uh, John, do you see what I see? That's…" He turned to John and grinned. "You know, I don't think you're going to have that much of a problem flying under the radar after all. Or over, or around."

"She's orbital!" John all but whooped in joy but settled on giving the console an affectionate pat. "That's my girl. Good work, Rodney." He leaned over and lowered his voice, "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine." He wasn't. Not really. The events of the last few days were finally catching up. The frustration of the missing doll, his worry about Teyla, meeting John and their sudden connection, not to mention the incredible sex. Now this. He couldn't feel any emotion coming off Teyla, despite her obvious concern. Ronon appeared as emotional as a blank wall yet, by the way he'd taken Teyla's hand in an effort to comfort her, Rodney knew he was feeling something. 

The only emotions he sensed were John's. The fierceness of John's joy felt like a frisson, a hum of sensation across his skin, but it didn't hurt. The implications of that were beginning to sink in and it shocked Rodney into silence. 

They were through Herbane's gate well before the patrol caught up. Teyla's forgeries and John's pilot credentials never raised an eyebrow. Rodney scoffed at the official when they asked for his and then produced an electronic cube from his pocket that made the official's mouth drop open. "I'm so sorry for the delay, Vice Senator McKay, if there's anything --"

"Just drop the shield. I'm already late." Grumbling, Rodney turned to John. "Mr. Sheppard, if you could put on your best speed to get us through the gate, I'd appreciate it." 

Seconds later, they were staring down at the clear blue oceans of the planet Hitsuzen. John raised an eyebrow and asked, "Vice Senator McKay? Where did you come up with that one?"

Rodney cleared his throat, "It's actually true. A little family nepotism. I hate it, and believe me, you wouldn't know about it now except it's the only identity I had on me. If you have to talk about it, and I really hope you don't, can we do it later? And please, tell Ronon to stop looking at me like that. I swear the only thing I ever did with the position was to score a free drink or two back when I had an actual social life."

" Ronon, you heard McKay, stop glaring the man Right. Okay, gang," John announced, "I think we're all ready to find Dr. Jackson and have this adventure over with.

"I know where Daniel's lab is," Ronon offered gruffly "I can take us right to him. And, McKay, you owe me a free beer."

~*~

John couldn't say if it was Ronon's reputation as a dollmaker, or his friendship with Dr. Jackson, but they were made welcome by the doctor's staff as soon as they arrived. They were directed to his office, where the man himself stood up and greeted them with a wide-open smile.

"Ronon! It's good to see you." Clasping Ronon by the shoulder, he asked, "Now, tell me, what brings you and your friends here?"

"Yes," Colonel O'Neill spoke from the far corner of the room. "I'm curious about the answer, too." He smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.

Ronon gave a sharp smile in return. His gaze shifted back and forth between the Colonel and Daniel. You and O'Neill already know about the missing dolls, don't you." he accused "You couldn't have warned me? Or didn't you know the thieves took one of mine too?"

"I did know, yes, but to be fair," Daniel nodded in Jack’s direction, "we only just found out about yours.

"Those dolls have led us on a merry chase," Jack said, "but we've recovered four of them. In fact, we'd be happy to return them if we can figure out who they belong to. Unfortunately, a little something seems to be missing." 

"Look," John, said, flashing his most charming smile, "I get the feeling that we're talking at cross-purposes here and…" he stopped and rubbed the back of his neck feeling sheepish. "We're both holding back some information. This situation isn't going to be over unless we both put all the cards on the table. Agreed?"

"He has a point, Jack," Daniel said. 

"Agreed." Jack shook his head. "I just hope I don't regret this. Well, wait are you waiting for, show them to the conference room, Danny. And, how about rustling up some coffee and donuts? While you're at it, make it the kind with sprinkles. Everyone likes sprinkles.”

John grabbed Rodney by the arm before they entered the conference room. "Colonel O'Neill —what's he's feeling? Can we trust him or is he crazy?"

"I don't know. God, the one time my empathy could actually do some good, and I can't tell anymore."

"Look, I've got an idea. I drop my shields, just for a couple seconds and—."

"Is that what's going on? You're protecting me! Oh god, oh god, oh god, why didn't you say something?”

"I told you, Rodney, we're Yuanfen. Haven't you bothered to look that up yet?"

"Oh yes, of course. In my copious spare time, when I'm not, you know, looking for lost women and on the goddamn run from the patrols!"

"All right, point made." John rested his hand on the back of Rodney's neck with a gentle touch. "Are you willing to see if we can trust the Colonel?"

Rodney closed his eyes and sighed. "Do it."

Keeping one hand on Rodney's nape and circling his wrist with the other, he let his shields drop. It only lasted a moment. Barely long enough for John to marvel at Rodney's courage. "Well?"

"We can trust him." Rodney drew in a long, shaky breath. "Just, let's not do that again in a hurry, okay?"

"You got it, buddy." John put his arm around Rodney and helped him to his seat. He nodded to Teyla, trusting that she understood. This show was in her hands now. 

With an unreadable expression, Teyla pulled the chip case from her pocket and put it on the table in front of her. "I believe I have something you want, but first I need something in exchange, Colonel O'Neill."

"Is that what I think it is?" Jack asked, leaning forward. Teyla put her hand back on the case, refusing to allow him a closer look. Settling back in his chair, he waved a hand in her direction. "Ask away."

"Tell me what you know about the disappearance of Rodney McKay's doll." she began.

"Jack," Daniel interrupted, "if you don't mind, I'll answer that." He opened up a file and slid it over to where she could see it. "There are numerous varieties of hair, eye color, skin coloring and other genetic styles to select from. You'll notice every doll that's been stolen fits a specific profile, including Dr. McKay's. They're all female models with blonde hair and blue-eyes."

Jack coughed.

"Yes, I'm getting to that part." Daniel looked uncomfortable, but plunged on, "I am embarrassed to admit there was a mishap in the lab. Hmm, miscommunication would actually be a better way to describe it.

"Unbeknownst to me, Jack here authorized Dr. Radek Zelenka to do some very hush-hush military coding. Dr. Zelenka's directive was to create an advanced program that we could enhance our M.A.L.P.s with. That's the Mobile Analytic Laboratory Probe, and right now it simply isn't capable of doing what we need. Dr. Zelenka's new chip has the potential to to let us gain information on culture, language, and assess threat potential. In other words, the program is specifically designed to handle first contact missions through the Stargate."

"Potentially dangerous first-contact missions," Jack interrupted. "Don't forget that part." He shot Teyla a wry smile. "We were just trying to save lives, ma'am." 

"But not just that," Teyla countered. 

"Well, could be there was just the teeniest bit of spying involved. It never hurts to know ahead of time if you have an enemy, or what they're capable of doing" Jack's gaze turned to Rodney. "Something you and your friend here seem to have a handle on, Mr. Sheppard."

Daniel flipped open another file. “Why don't I just continue, before this gets awkward? As I was saying, Carter, our code name for Dr. Zelenka's program, utilized the same style of chip-strand design that I use for the dolls. And –

"-- Someone," Jack interrupted, "hid the program in the chips meant for Daniel's dolls. All we knew was that somewhere out there was a blonde, blue-eyed fembot with our special chip, but we didn't know which one." 

"I know we can't prove it, Jack," Daniel said, "but I think Radek was just trying to give Carter some field testing. I don't believe he ever meant to lose track of it."

"Nevertheless, Danny, he did, and now we owe these good people the rest of the story. I probably don't need to explain that due to the current political climate, our resources are limited. We hired Lavin to help. He was supposed to locate them and contact us. He wasn't supposed to steal them. 

"However, it seems we weren't the only ones after the fembot and its spyware." Jack's expression turned grim. "Mr. Lavin tried to sell the dolls after removing the chips and, in the process, double-crossed the wrong people. They didn’t take it well when they found out they didn't have all the necessary equipment. By the time my people got there, Lavin was dead and they couldn't find any trace of the stolen chips." 

"Mr. Lavin's murder," Teyla asked, "could you have stopped it, Colonel O'Neill?" 

"Maybe. If I'd been there. My dance card was a tad full at the time. We were dealing with a brand new alien with a god complex. Nasty business."

"How did that turn out, Colonel?" John asked, curious despite himself at the mention of an alien race. 

"It would've gone better, Mr. Sheppard, if we had that program for advanced intel up and running, but we managed. In fact, you could say the closing act brought down the house. Well spaceship if you will.” Turning to Teyla, he held out his hand. "That's the whole story, ma'am. May I have them back now?"

With the barest of nods, she passed the case over. "I believe some of those rightfully belong to Dr. McKay.”

"I'll get Radek to sort them out and make sure he gets his back. We owe you, Ms. Emmagan, for bringing our chips back safe and sound. Oh, and don't worry about that pesky suspicion-of-murder charge. We'll get your name cleared with the proper authorities so you can go back home."

"Excuse me, but what if they don't want to go home right away?" Daniel asked. "As I recall, you still need someone willing to go on first contact missions. There's no knowing how long it will be before the M.A.L.P is ready now. It could take months for Dr. Zelenka to check all those chips. Jack?"

"I'm thinking."

"If you don't mind my saying, sir,” John said, "I couldn't help but notice that you passed along a lot of information to people you barely know. Only, I think you know exactly who we are. I think you told us all of this for a reason."

"I admit you do all seem like a resourceful bunch. And that's all I’m going to admit to. Although…" Jack got up from the table, turned and flashed a knowing smile at John. "We could do worse than have you join us. Why don't I just give the four of you a little time to think about it? Talk it over. Danny here can help you with any questions."

"Ah, yes," Daniel pushed his glasses up on his nose and asked, "Any questions?"

John hesitated to say anything, and Rodney held up his hand. "Give us just a minute." 

He hustled John over to a more private corner of the room. "Yes,” he hissed at John. “Tell him we say yes. New worlds to explore and a chance to change things for the better. Look." He pointed to the table where Ronon and Teyla were already in a deep discussion with Dr. Jackson. "What are you waiting for? We can do this. I mean, we can do this, together. Unless you're tired of me. Is that it? I'm too much work, too much to be with..."

"Rodney, no! I was thinking that the Yuanfen temple is right here. If we stay, we could learn more about this thing between us, what we are, what we can do – together." He put his hands on Rodney's shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "I need to learn everything I can to protect you." 

"You can -- you do. Look at me, John. You're the one with the fancy vision — use your eyes. I haven't had so much as a pimple break out since we met." 

"You never mentioned my senses before. Why is that, Rodney? Did you know that before I met you, I had to keep my whole world muffled just to survive?" John searched Rodney's face for answers. What he found was acceptance, trust, and wistful hope.

"Idiot. Did you think I didn't notice? You flinched when I dropped a paper clip. You pointed out cracks in the jumper's crystals so tiny I needed a magnifying glass to see them. Hell, you damned near came when I pulled the silk sheets up over your naked ass." Rodney squeezed John's shoulder. "And, hey, it's not like you were talking about it, either."

John didn't know what to say to that, considering that Rodney had a point.

"Yes," he continued, "your senses are cool, and one day I think we should take the time to study them, but they're not what make you special. You're special because I…you…oh, hell." Hooking his fingers in John's belt loops, Rodney leaned up and kissed his mouth. 

"Oh." John touched his fingertips to Rodney's bottom lip with tender amazement. It was still flushed and warm from their kiss. 

Rodney began to lean towards John for another kiss. Suddenly he stopped, hand slapping down on the center of John's chest, and reared back, wild-eyed and accusing. "Yuanfen. Oh, my god, you mean like the sentinel and guide mythos. That's why -- we're bonded!” 

"What did you think it was, Rodney?" John asked, mouth curving into a smile.

"Some sort of…um…sexual healing?" 

John shook his head, smiling with gentle amusement. It helped that Rodney was already allowing John to reel him back in for another kiss. "We can call it sexual healing if it makes you feel better. It could make for an interesting chapter in Jackson's book."

"I'll go tell him that we're definitely going, then?" 

"Not so fast. I'll agree on two conditions." Pulling the control ring off Rodney's finger, he said, "One. You don't wear anyone else's ring but mine. Two. You're done with dolls. I don't care what you do with yours when you get it back, but you're not keeping it. Give it to Colonel O'Neill, for all I care."

"I can do that. Well?" He tugged at John's hand. "C'mon, before they change their minds."

~*~

John, Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon were geared up and ready to walk through the Stargate. The chevrons encoded and the ring whooshed to life.

"Any last words of advice, Colonel?" John asked.

"Don't get dead."

"We'll take that under advisement," John raised his hand in a lazy and utterly non-regulation salute, turned to double check Rodney's gear and then they were through the gate.

"Sheppard's a cocky bastard if I ever saw one," said Jack. "They’re the motliest looking crew I've ever had to send off-world."

Daniel elbowed him in the ribs. "Admit it, Jack. That's your flagship team, and we both know it."

"Yes, but let's not be in too much of a hurry to tell them." He rubbed his palms together in anticipation. "Okay, why don't you show me that surprise now?” 

"It's a gift from Rodney. Special delivery to you, Jack."

Opening the crate, Jack's eyes slowly surveyed the full length of McKay's doll. "Did Radek…?”

"Put the Carter program in this doll? He did. It was Rodney's suggestion."

As Jack stared at the fembot, a smile crinkled at the corner of his eye. "She's a lot better looking than that M.A.L.P we were going to put the chips in."

"Oh no, you can't be thinking what I think you're thinking. You can't put a doll through the Stargate. Um…do you really think it will work?" 

"Do I think any natives will respond to a pretty fembot better than that ugly telescope on wheels?” Jack raised an altogether too smug eyebrow. "I do, indeed. Just imagine it." 

"The Carter Spy Fembot. I don't know, Jack…I have a funny feeling about this."

Aw, Danny, what could go wrong? Call me crazy," Jack said, in his best Bogart voice, imaginary cigar in hand, "but I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." 

"Nice reference." Daniel adjusted his glasses and frowned. "Did you know no one actually said, 'Play it again, Sam'?"

"You don't say. Hmm, come to think of it, the Carter Spy Fembot is quite a mouthful." Jack threw his arm over Daniel's shoulder and grinned. "What'dya say, we just call our gal here —Sam?"

~*~


End file.
